About Me

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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me


funny ha ha

i can't belive they went through with making this film :

"the astronaut farmer"

i'll add more movies when i see them


my saturday night

"I love writing but hate starting. The page is awfully white and it says, 'You may have fooled some of the people some of the time but those days are over, giftless. I'm not your agent and I'm not your mommy, I'm a white piece of paper, you wanna dance with me?' and I really, really don't."

-aaron sorkin

i'm feeling a lot like that wordy mo-fo right now.

do not hold doors

It's rush hour, and the E train is packed. I hop on at 7th Avenue and I'm just ready for my night to begin, for that train to get moving and to get my butt in Queens, fast.

The doors begin to close, but then jam. And I see this guy squeezing his way through the center doors, paying no mind & making no apologies for holding us up. I figure that's it, I'll forget about this guy and thie brief annoyance but then...

He whips out his shiny black Sidekick. Oh, good for you--what are you, on AIM or something? Checking your e-mail, underground? I have some personal beef with Sidekicks that stems mainly from my secret desire to own one, and while I don't hate people who have them (JGear has a 'kick, how could I hate JGear???) I did, just from the look of this guy holding it to his face, hate him. He hd this nasty-ass look on his face, like he was better than the rest of us. And with his dirty Starter jacket (seriously) and his bubbly, irregularly stubbly chin, I'm sure he was. I'm sure.

I turn away; this guy can't bother me if I don't look at him, right?


He snaps his gum. Blows a big huge bubble and does one of those quadruple snaps, snapsnapsnapsnap, and continues chewing. The guy standing next to him--that poor guy, I wanted to reach over and give him a hug--just looked up t him, but Sidekick was all up in his and too busy to notice.


I grill him, but since hte train is so packed he doesn't get that feeling you get when someone's staring at you. I try to burn my eyes into his forehead or reach over and make him spit his gum out but I can't do either; and he continues to snap.


I just wanted to get going, to have a good night, but this asshole kept snapping and making my irritating afternoon even more irritating.

And I felt so bad for that guy standing next to him, who was forced to look at him every 2 minutes, silently pleading for him to quit it, now.

I think my new biggest pet peeve is people who snap their gum--it knocks Sidekicks out of the top spot



I got a car, I've got some gas
oh let's get out of here
get out of here fast
everyone's confused
so i stay in my room
if i go i dont want
to go alone

I hope you get this message
or you're not home
I could be there in
10 minutes or so
i got my things
we make it up as we go along
with you i could never be alone

le sigh.


this may be the last time i write about this sort of thing

This is my final semester of my undergraduate college career, maybe even my last semester of school EVER, if I don't get my LSATs up.

I'm kidding about the law school thing (you'd know that if you knew my Business Law grade)

But I don't even know if I'd ever go back to school, to spend a few more years and a few more g's to get another piece of paper to put in a frame. I would want to go to grad school, because I actually like school and what I"d want to be going for, but it's the whole applicaiton process that scares me.

Or maybe just makes me tired--yes, I'm lazy. How did I do it back in high school? All those classes, all day long, only one free a day and gym (gym! exercise! holy shit!) three days a week. And then I was so eager to apply to schools and fill out all those forms and hand them in the proper envelope to my guidance counselor. I guess back then the option was college or not-college, and my options coming out of college are a little (very little) bit better.

Don't worry--I don't know where this post is going either. I've just been half-napping all day, catching up on TV and thinking about the coming weeks. And months. And years.

I'm taking two online classes this semester since my internship's full time, and I have a sinking filling there's gonna be this void where the beginning of school thing usually is, since I wont be on campus. Shit, I'm gonna miss being at school a lot, which may make some people think I'm a loser. I hate change, even if it's an amazing, exciting, awesome change. And sometimes it feels like it's all going so fast, and I sometimes wish it was still November or something, for a lot of weird reasons. Of course back in November I wanted nothing more than to be here, in January, because thats how it works. I didn't understand (or maybe I did, but I just didnt know where to place a feeling I wasn't feeling yet) that I'd actually miss my morning routine; my commute, my car, the way I'd decide right before whether or not I'd take the Van Wyck or stay where I was or make a right at Park Lane South and look at all the houses on my way to school. The train is a bitch, seriously; and besides all this commuting bs I'm gonna miss the people I saw everyday.

This blog really is a fucking downer, right? I gots shit to do, and here I am whining and typing. I'm off to get something done (or at least try).


Who needs illusion of love and affection, when you're walking out the street with your mainline connection...


I was taking the train home from my internship the other night, physically exhausted from running around all day and ready to sit back, listen to my mom's iPod (still waiting for mine to start working again) and decompress.

There was a guy standing in front of me--well dressed, nervous looking--who later on sat next to me when the seat was free. A few stops after him a girl came on--weird jacket, crazy hair--and after a few minutes she sat next to him when that seat was free.

And I didn't notice it at first, since I was so into my iPod, but before we even crossed the bridge into Brooklyn those two had struck up a conversation with each other and I was witnesssing some form of connection between strangers. I didn't think this sort of thing happened in real-life, only in movies; but sure enough, the well-dressed guy was asking where she was from and the crazy-haired girl was explaining her reasons for coming to New York. They talked about San Francisco--"a nice place to live", she said, "but i'm glad i got out"--and the guy's desire to retire there one day, far into the future, "if i ever get a job" he said, with a nervous laugh. He was in the city for a job interview, she was getting off of work. She came here for school, spent some time at NYU.

Then she got up at Atlantic Avenue.

"Well, this is my stop," she said. She held out her hand for him to shake and told him, "It's been a pleasure, really." They both smiled.

I half-expected him to ask for her number or something, but he just floppily shook her hand. She walked off the train and he settled back in to his seat, back into his stapled papers, the handbook for the job he was hoping to get. He got off at my stop, Kings Highway, and I wondered for a second how he got so far, who he knew, why he was there. I wanted to know more of this person's story.

I didn't think it happened, but it does--strangers sharing their words, their hopes, their dreams. They shake each other's hands and get off at their stop, but for a few minutes they had it, the possibility of something else in the face of somebody new. This city is big, scary, and lonely, but maybe all we're looking for is just waiting for us to find it, in the person sitting next to us on a Brooklyn-bound B train.


because i'm deep

poet anne sexton to her 15 y/o daughter linda gray
april, 1969


Dear Linda,
I am in the middle of a flight to St. Louis to give a reading. I was reading a NEW YORKER story that made me think of my mother and all alone in the seat I whispered to her "I know, Mother, I know." And I thought of you--someday flying somewhere all alone and me dead perhaps and you wishing to speak to me.

And I want to speak back (Linda, maybe it won't be flying, maybe it will be in your own kitchen table drinking tea some afteroon when you are 40. Anytime)

1st I love you
2. You never let me down
3. I know. I was there once. I too, was 40 and with a dead mother who I needed still.

This is my message to the 40-year-old Linda. No matter what happens you were always my bobolink, my special Linda Gray. Life is not easy. It is awfully lonely. I know that. Now you too know it--wherever you are, Linda, talking to me. But I've had a good life--I wrote unhappy--but I lived to the hilt. You too, Linda--live to the HILT! To the top. I love you, 40-year-old Linda, and I love what you do, what you find, what you are!--Be your own woman. Belong to those you love. Talk to my poems, and talk to you heart--I'm in both; if you need me. I lied, Linda. I did love my mother and she loved me. She never held me but I miss her, so that I have to deny I ever loved her--or she me! Silly Anne! So there!



what are you holding out for? what's always in the way? why so damn absent-minded? why so scared of romance?

holy shit-- it's 2007 which means i'll be GRADUATING from COLLEGE before this year is halfway through. i'll be turning TWENTY-TWO this year.

i have so much i've checked off on my life's 'to do' list, but still so much left to go. there's still so many empty boxes.

i'm terrified.


beth & tj's awesomest new years eve party was everything it's facebook invite promised.

there was one six-pack of blue moon & one bucket of margaritas which i enjoyed

there was one room for every type of music-- odd 80s pop in the living room(donnie iris--one day you'll know him), some gangsta-style rap in the middle room, and loud, fist-pumping rock in the kitchen.

there was one amazing USA jacket, made out of the same material of an outdoor, bbq table cloth and worn by me as soon as i found it

there was one top hat, one sequined vintage party dress, and one sequined tube top (beth, i wouldn't forget you)

but there was also one weird, frightening, break-down brawl which featured lots of screaming & waking up of neighbors at 2am

that was intense. i walked home in the rain & my straight hair went curly.

today i went swimming with the rest of my block & baptised the new year.

even bigger things in '07, right?

I wonder if my writing has even improved?